I’m not sure if it was the fact that I was riding on my hometown turf or that I was zooming down long descents – either way, I found myself taking a trip back in time during Sunday’s mountain bike race in Duluth.

When I was young, I lived on a dirt road just outside of Duluth. Like any other blue-blooded American kid, my bike was my main mode of transportation. To the left of my family’s driveway was a monstrous hill – at least it seemed that way at the time. I remember the pure joy I felt while coasting down that dirt road on my pink 10-speed – it was more thrilling than any rollercoaster.

During Sunday’s race at Lester Park, that feeling of joy returned. While most trails have some downhill jaunts, this course took the cake. After technical riding in the single track (which I’m not so great at), the wide downhill cross country ski trail was the perfect reward.

On Sunday, I once again felt like 8-year-old Trish, with the wind on my face and not a care in the world. That alone was worth more than any medal or picture perfect finish.